Miranda: Come Together
by hardboiledgregg
Summary: Post-suicide mission, and having left Cerberus, Miranda Lawson is anxious about the future. Will she find reassurance? One-shot adaptation of chapter 26 from Miranda: The Space That Separates.


**A/N: This is an MA-rated one-shot version of chapter 26 from my main story 'Miranda: The Space That Separates'.**

**As it's a flashback, it comfortably stands alone, but if you like what you see and want the full 'saga', then yeah, check that out.**

* * *

With the mission a resounding success and everyone safely back aboard the Normandy, I immediately head to the bridge and coordinate with EDI to ensure any Cerberus control of the ship is eradicated while simultaneously making sure not to jeopardise the functionality of the necessary systems. To survive a trip through the Omega-4 Relay and back only to lose all control and crash into the next thing we encounter would not exactly be covering ourselves in glory.

Fortunately, it becomes apparent that whatever measures Cerberus have in place are no match for an unshackled AI of EDI's capabilities.

I'll admit that her current status worries me, but right now it's just one more thing on the list.

Confident that she can at least fulfil the task as requested, I head down to check in on Dr. Chakwas and the rest of the crew in the Med Bay. She assures me that the survivors, herself included, all appear relatively unharmed and should be fit for duty following some rest.

If only that were all I needed to return to normal. I should be savouring the victory, revelling in beating seemingly impossible odds, but instead my thoughts are preoccupied with complications presented by an uncertain future.

I attempt to put my mind at rest by resuming my ordinary post-mission routine. I drop off my weapons in the armoury, I wash and change, and finally, I visit my office to begin typing up a report. It's not for the Illusive Man or Cerberus, nor anyone in particular, really. I write it just to re-centre my thoughts, to convince myself that things will continue as before, with only minor adjustments.

_Consider this my resignation_.

The words echo in my head, my hands almost shaking at the memory.

Who am I kidding? Nothing will ever be the same. I can tell that just by the way the rest of the team have begun to view me, as if perhaps I've lost my mind. Just because they support the decision, it doesn't meant they understand or expected it.

Already I'm noticing their vaguely quizzical expressions every time I'm nearby. I can sense their eyes studying me for cracks.

There is a silver lining at least: I believe Jack no longer feels quite so strongly about killing me.

The fact is, no one else is facing the sort of giant upheaval that I am. It would appear a few among the team, the former drifters, have found a new sense of purpose alongside Shepard, while others could, and most likely will, quite happily return to the status quo. For all the good it will do.

Samara could continue her Justicar duties and Jack could continue with whatever the hell it is that pleases her. Tali will no doubt rejoin her people, and Grunt now has a place among the krogan, entirely unburdened by any existential concerns I would expect him to have, given his creation and legacy. In a way, I'm jealous.

Even Jacob could reintegrate into another Cerberus cell. Whereas I've burned all of my bridges.

I don't regret my choice. I just know it'll be a difficult one to live with.

Regardless of whatever I try to occupy my mind with, I can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling I have. I didn't plan for such a drastic move. And I _always_ plan.

I'm not even sure how things stand with Shepard.

I meant what I said before, albeit rather forwardly due to the circumstances. Did he?

Maybe the absence of those same circumstances has altered his perspective and changed his feelings. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened to someone. He's still human after all.

If he felt that way, would he give it to me straight? Or would he attempt to do the 'diplomatic' thing and maintain a charade in order to spare my feelings until we both drifted apart like two ships who should only have spent one night passing?

Things were much simpler when a suicide mission was on the cards, where death provided a definitive end at least. I don't commit so easily to a great many things, but when I do it's for the long haul. This is a future I have a lot less control over.

I take a deep breath, trying but failing to loosen my shoulders then watch the small window on my computer screen that displays the feed from the surveillance camera aimed outside my office.

I stare at it, expecting Shepard to walk into view at any moment; for the office doors to open and for him to ask if I have a minute.

Right now I feel as if I have all the time in the world and yet nothing to do with it except torture myself.

EDI offers a brief distraction, confirming that she's secured the ship and will continue to manage the necessary stations until those crewmen return to duty. I thank her for the update and remain in place, rhythmically tapping the desk with the fingertips of one hand while I think.

Well, I'm not going to find my answers here, and an XO does need to update their captain. Besides, if he won't come to me…

I stand and make for the door in haste, determined not to allow myself the chance to reconsider.

The short elevator ride up allows the doubts to creep back into my mind and I step off, legs feeling hollow, head swimming with thoughts. I stop and compose myself before stepping into the room.

As I enter, I spot Shepard perched on the end of his bed on the far side. That's not where I expected him to be.

Still unsure about the mood, I choose to remain by the doorway, sporting a fixed formal posture.

He doesn't get up at all, or even greet me formally. Instead, he smiles gently and gazes me over as if I were a tall, cool drink of water on a hot summer's day, his beautiful eyes dazzling in the room's soft blue glow, even at this distance. Despite what we've just been through, what we've just survived, he looks so relaxed, so inviting...

_Not now, Miranda_.

Not wanting to tip my hand, I let out a short private sigh and promptly update him, "Commander, I'm pleased to report that the Normandy is in full working order. EDI's purged it of all… all Cerberus connections and is able to maintain the necessary systems until the rest of the crew has fully recovered, which means we..."

While I'm speaking, he stands and starts striding towards me, his expression blank, as if every word sails right past him.

I continue, now struggling to keep my train of thought, "... have full control. The ship is ours, Commander, and what we do next is up to you." I pause momentarily, he approaches ever closer. Now two feet away. "That said, may I suggest we..."

I'm cut off as he hooks two fingers under my belt and pulls my body firmly against his, our lips locking together perfectly, his other hand already up at my cheek, caressing it delicately. Blood rushes to my head instantly, forcing out all other things on my mind.

With the initial shock subsiding, I surrender to the moment, pressing back against him. He reciprocates, his right hand sliding around my waist and to my back, sending a bewitching shiver up my spine. I feel his heart beat as he must feel mine, both already racing.

The awareness drives us to tighten our embrace further, the contours of our bodies melding. Our shared heat turns into a slow, soothing release of tension as the rest of the world slips away.

Gradually, the kiss softens, our lips separating and reuniting with only the slightest pressure as our eyes begin to reconnect, both of us entranced by one another's gaze, drinking deep. We sup our share and it is intoxicating.

Unfortunately, I've always had a high tolerance and it's not long before the effect wears off and things come back into focus. My mind starts to pester me about getting too indulgent, too distracted and I break away completely, leaving us both visibly disappointed and unsated.

"Someone's a little impatient," I remark coyly, playing it cool. "What's to say I didn't just come here to debrief you?"

"Is that what we're calling it now?" he says with a mischievous smirk, right hand still round my waist, the fingers on his left now playing at the back of my neck, and his eyes hungrier than ever.

"Shepard..." I hesitate, still uncertain about the larger situation, our future. "Did you hear what I was saying before?"

He nods. "I thought we could drift for a little while." Lazily, his hand moves round from my neck to my cheek before he steals another quick kiss. "We've earned ourselves a break, wouldn't you say?"

Deflated, my arms fall back down to my side. I haven't yet sorted the arrangements for the rest of the crew. While not the ideal solution, I intend to propose that anyone who wishes to leave can do so either at Omega or the Citadel. Otherwise, getting everyone where they want to go could take weeks.

Still a little subdued, I attempt to explain. "I know, it's just that the others-"

"Would probably appreciate a little downtime," he interrupts genially. "You said EDI's got it under control, and I trust her. I trust _you_. Would you prefer I make it an official order from the captain?"

He smiles that warm, disarming smile and draws me back in with that firm yet reassuringly tender touch I've felt once before. A touch that never fails to surprise and excite me. One I didn't expect from a man who had effectively been a career soldier; particularly one I'd spent a great deal of time studying and rebuilding. It's a reminder that there can be sides to people we might never have the fortune of seeing. And I do feel lucky.

His every move promises safety, reassures me that I can trust him, and that not everything needs to be under my control, every second of every minute, every hour of every day.

As if sensing my qualms, he pauses and looks me straight in the eye. Not forcefully, but adoringly. "Miranda, you're in good hands."

I look down at his arms loose at my waist then slowly raise my head. Mirroring him, my expression and voice soften. "I am, aren't I?"

Suddenly, passion takes over, driving doubt from our minds, and our bodies towards the bed. Clumsy in our desire to shed each other's clothes to let skin meet skin, and with lips that can't bear to part even for a second, our route across the cabin takes a few erratic diversions, scattering ships and frightening fish before we finally tumble onto the mattress.

Once there, we're a little more careful with undressing, a little more… cooperative. Gone are the weariness and concern about the bumps and bruises from our final fight against the Collectors. We are alive, and nothing will deter us.

And though the mood is gentle, with each item of clothing removed encouraging further languorous kissing and caressing, we still subtly jostle for dominance wherever we can. That is, until Shepard's fingertips find the exact spot that sends me quivering with pleasure. So much that I'm set off-balance and robbed of the leverage I'd gained.

He relishes the effect, taking advantage a while longer before pressing my wrists into the covers and gently spreading my arms upwards past my head. Having effectively pinned me down, he overwhelms me with quick pecks at my cheeks and smothers my still gasping mouth with his own. The tousled hair that has fallen in front of my face does nothing to stop him from finding his target. I suppose there are worse battles to lose...

When he senses I've ceased any resistance, we pause and lock eyes while catching our breath. As he carefully strokes my hair aside, I realise that I've never had anyone look at me so lovingly, so naturally and fearlessly full of affection. This isn't some casual encounter driven by lust and haste, in pursuit of selfish desires. This is two people coming together to enjoy one another, to delight one another, to relish each other's company. And as if to prove it, he moves to indulge me further.

First, he begins to massage the sensitive area of my back, the arousal causing my head to lift slightly so he can tease my neck with strong, sultry kisses, eliciting a small moan that encourages him to linger momentarily. While I'm set gazing at the stars through the skylight above, his mouth begins a trail downwards...

He moves to my chest, sure to savour every curve and dimple before moving onto my navel, each kiss now becoming longer yet more delicate while his hands trace along the sides of my body, palms gliding their way to my hips, fingers electric against my skin.

He moves ever further downwards, reaching my inner thighs, his hands now slightly behind, cupped at the cheeks. Then the trail of kisses starts to move inwards finding my own lips, wet and warm and willing.

I stifle a gasp at the initial sensation of his warm breath below and grasp at the bed covers with both hands, clenching and releasing them with every new wave of ecstasy that flows up through me.

Soon I'm digging my heels into the mattress, trying to gain purchase and keep my hips from bucking as my back begins to arch. I'm right where he wants me; under his spell yet comfortably at ease, at his mercy yet enjoying every minute.

Responding to the increased pace of my breathing, or simply aware of my struggle to remain agreeably still, he slows his rhythm. But the light, tingling feeling inside me continues building to a crescendo. Each brush of his lips, each lap of his tongue is now slower, more deliberate, bringing me closer and closer to the edge, urging me to...

Just...

Let...

Go...

Every tensed muscle uncoils rapidly, my legs slipping back down against the covers, and the breath I'd been holding comes shuddering out of me. Momentarily dizzy with the pleasant buzz permeating my entire being, I peer through heavy eyelids to see him smiling back, and proud.

Carefully, he crawls back over me, giving me adequate time to admire his physique, the pale blue light glistening off his muscles as they flex.

_Pectoralis major, pectoralis minor..._

Briefly, my mind flits back to the process of resurrecting 'Commander Shepard' and I find myself having to push the anatomical names of the related bone, muscle and tissue rapidly from my thoughts lest I ruin the mood. The tickling sensation of his chin stubble along my chest and up past my collarbone certainly helps refocus my attention.

Watching him, I'm reminded how lithe and soft his movements can be... a stark contrast between how he operates on the battlefield and in the bedroom.

When we're at eye-level once more, our mouths meet hungrily, desperately, while I move my hips enough so that we join together smoothly. His head lifts backwards as his first gentle thrust sets the pace, a powerful heat emanating from between my thighs with the first light jolt.

Sliding his arms past my head, he then brings up a thumb to lazily push aside the strands of hair stuck to the perspiration on my brow and brings his mouth back in for another taste.

The heft and weight of him, that frame, that body against me, ignites an impatient desire within that compels my hands to trace around his neck and pull him in tight, regaining some small degree of control.

In this position, I catch the invigorating scent of his hair, fresh from the shower, and take to running both sets of my fingers through it, massaging the scalp and back down to the nape of his neck. The assertive shift earns his approval as his chest heaves, pressing into me with a satisfied moan, my legs spreading further, welcoming him deeper.

Caught up in the motions, our mouths now hover in and out of proximity, lips brushing against each other's skin carelessly.

Before things become too muddled and break the rhythm, I grasp his cheekbones between my thumb and index finger and attempt to refocus his gaze on me. Taking his bottom lip in my teeth and tugging gently, his eyes open and give me that look I so crave... this time with a hazy, hypnotised power within.

Soon, our breathing becomes perfectly synchronised, and each new moan finds its harmony. Every movement back and forth brings a tantalising friction, each new swell and surge of ecstasy persisting longer and longer. Without concerns weighing on our minds, happily lost in each other, we take our time.

Gradually, our tempo increases as the pleasure further intensifies and my fingers drop from his neck to grasping at his shoulder blades, nails digging into skin. My muscles twitch and tighten below and my head becomes light as bliss begins to beckon. Another dreamy glance between us tells me that he's experiencing the same slow build.

I constrict my legs round him more intently and he responds, placing his arms firmly around my upper back. Entwined like this, we both work towards that peak with increased vigour, grinding faster and faster, clutching one another tighter and tighter, breaths becoming shorter and shorter.

The shared sensation finally overwhelms us as we reach climax, riding each giddying wave to its fullest.

My eyes flutter up behind my eyelids as my body bucks, feeling his tremble.

My breath quivers and a long, low sigh rises from my chest and up to the stars. His breath hitches and melts into a contented groan that tickles my ear.

We bring our foreheads together and remain still, eyes closed and mouths hanging open as our warm breaths mingle and return to their normal pace.

After a short while, we share another slow, careful parting kiss before shifting onto our sides in a tight embrace, our fingers circling and stroking whatever skin they find. Looking into his eyes, things start to become clear. Though I might not have a home, this is where I belong.

As we drift off to sleep later that night, tucked close against one another, my mind floats among a dense, soothing fog where my worries and concerns cannot find me.

Whatever the future holds, we'll face it together.

* * *

I awake to find Shepard beside me, looking right back, head perched in his palm. In the early morning haze, in that posture, he looks like a picture of perfection.

"Fancy seeing you here," he remarks in faux surprise, leaning in to kiss my forehead. "Should I consider myself debriefed?"

"At ease, soldier," I respond dryly, my voice not even half awake. I roll away to lie flat on the mattress and close my eyes again. The world can wait.

I feel the bed shift as Shepard adjusts his weight and tucks up against my side. Then I feel him tracing lines across my naked back in a slow, comforting manner, the roughness of his soldier's fingertips serving to heighten the sensitivity of my skin.

It continues for a while until curiosity gets the better of me and, head still buried in the pillow, I have to enquire if he's drawing something.

"Nope," he replies innocently, "besides, I couldn't improve on such a beautiful canvas."

"You did not just say that," I groan sleepily and swiftly pull the pillow from under my head, rising to swing it at him playfully. He blocks it and chuckles. I collapse back down on my side, smiling faintly at him.

"What if I were to admit that I just felt like drawing something and your back happened to be convenient?" he teases.

"What if I were to pummel you with a pillow?" I retort.

He pouts and lifts his chin. "We all suffer for our art..."

"You arse..." I sigh, rolling me eyes.

Pushing back against him, I turn onto my front and close my eyes again.

His hand returns to my skin and eventually his palm slips along my left shoulder blade before a fingertip briefly circles a spot not far below. I hear him make a small sound as if perhaps he's unsure whether or not to mention his discovery and he attempts to carry on.

"Yes, that's a scar," I pipe up, muffled slightly by the pillow.

"I thought you healed quickly."

"I do, given proper medical attention."

"I see..."

I pull myself up and round to face him. "Let's just say it involved a rookie operative, a serrated blade and a night spent hiding inside a garbage container."

"I trust your current sleeping arrangement and choice of company compares favourably?" he asks, not letting my shift in position interrupt the listless roaming of his hand.

"The knife was sharper," I tease, as he kisses my shoulder, "but if pressed, I would probably say so."

He raises a suggestive eyebrow, a hand running up my leg and to my inner thigh. "Would you like me to press you? I'm warning you, I can be very insistent."

"Oh, I'm well aware. You have a certain... eloquence."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. I'm known for slips of the tongue…"

"Come to think of it, I do prefer it when you don't talk."

"Acknowledged," he chuckles.

I lie back down, curling up with my forehead against his chest. He massages my arm up and down while I take comfort in feeling the slow steadiness of his breath rise and fall.

Though I can laugh off the injury now, that night had taught me to be a lot more cautious. Being practically perfect can get you so far, but it won't prevent a fatal blow from behind if your guard's down. I'd made the mistake of trusting someone I shouldn't have and, as a result, received a very literal demonstration of back-stabbing. Once stabbed, twice shy...

Right now, though, a different image is running through my mind. I recall the Collector station platforms coming apart, losing my footing and sliding towards an abyss. I remember looking up and seeing Shepard throw himself fearlessly and selflessly after me, arm outstretched. I remember thinking that was it, for both of us, but he… he got us through. He got everyone through.

During that first serious talk, I'd told him not to die, and he certainly followed that order. If only it were that simple, if only I had that sort of control.

I don't know what I'm hoping for. That he'll reassure me that no power in the universe can stop him?

I rise and lean into him, kissing him passionately, seeking to distract myself from the lingering doubts. He welcomes it but can tell that something isn't right.

"What's on your mind?" he enquires, cradling my head in his hand.

"You," I reply rather casually given the forwardness. "Should you continue to live so recklessly, it's worth keeping in mind that it'll be a lot harder to bring you back this time."

It's a facetious answer that masks my real concern. Whether he sees through it or not, he plays along.

"You mean another Lazarus Project? I'm sure you'd find a way," he leans his forehead against mine. "Besides, it could be that I'm the one needing to bring you back."

"Heaven help us all..."

"I am a valuable asset," he asserts, reeling back in mock offence. "Sure, I might lack the advanced technical expertise required for such an undertaking, but I am willing to provide my services as consultant, given that I'm the galaxy's foremost expert on Miranda Lawson."

"Oh, really?" I challenge, entertained by our easy badinage.

"Most definitely. I have an unparalleled intimate and rewarding understanding of the woman. Not only have I spent a great deal of months getting to know her better, but just recently I've been able to perform a careful study of her physique," he says, walking his fingers along my arm and up to my shoulder. Suffering for his art, indeed. "Touch, scent... taste," he continues, finishing with a kiss to that same shoulder.

I can't keep myself from quivering with amusement. "Alright, stop, the job's yours. Though I'm still not convinced of the project's chances of success."

"Then it's settled. We make a deal that only I'm allowed to die," he proposes. "You'd probably have more trouble thinking up a name for the project than anything else."

"You're not fond of keeping it simple? The Lazarus Project Two-Point-Oh," I tease.

"I'm a stickler for tradition," he shrugs. "It needs something biblical or mythological, something symbolic."

I think for a moment before an answer pops into my head. "Eurydice."

His eyes narrow, suspicious of a trick. "Wasn't that the woman?"

"It fits."

"No, I don't think so. If anything, you'd be Eurydice."

"Me? No, I'm afraid in this scenario, you are very much Eurydice."

"You're sure?" he asks, acting unconvinced. I nod. "I'm starting to regret leaving this responsibility to you..."

"All the more incentive not to die."

He adjusts position, sitting higher against the headboard and brings an arm around my chest, pulling me close.

"I can't seem to recall how that particular tale ends," he comments innocently, staring off into the distance.

I do.

Closing my eyes and resting against his shoulder, I respond quietly, "They find each other."

Whether you consider it a happy ending or not is a matter of perspective, and faith.

As slumber takes us once more, he nuzzles his forehead against mine and murmurs contentedly, "I like it."

* * *

**A/N: Big thanks to both Seracen Beta and sunzeng (check out their work!) for their help with this particular piece. They helped provide reassurance and some very useful feedback.**

**Given that it's female perspective, writing it was a bit awkward for me, and I don't think I quite did that side of things justice. Still, I always aim to challenge myself with everything I write, so any critique or advice or general feedback is especially appreciated here.**

**Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!**


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